Fallout: New Vegas: The legend of Texas Jones
by B-Unit
Summary: Texas Jones is a former Ranger turned Regulator in New Vegas. A Regulator with a murky history and scores to settle. Why has he returned to the West after 6 years away? And what is his connection with the President of the NCR?


_An Ex-NRC ranger now working with the Regulators as a bounty hunter, Texas Jones left the Rangers under suspicious and unknown circumstances. Well, not totally unknown. Texas knows. President Kimball knows. The Republics leader allowed Texas to leave the NCR and join the Regulators under one condition: never hunt in the NCR. But now Texas has returned to California, with a job to do..._

'Please... please just take what you want and just go!'

'Easy there Old Man, you don't want to go raising your voice to us unless you got something to back it up, like this'.

An Old Man sat on the scorched earth of the Wasteland, a murdered Brahmin to his left and a hired gun missing half his head face down on the ground before him, blood pooling at his feet. The Old Man looked down the slightly rusted barrel of the shotgun the large Raider had just pointed between his eyes, now close enough that it was brushing his brow. In all his years of working for the Caravans, he'd never had to deal with a situation quite like this.

'Blow his head off and be done with it, we've got debts to pay with the Omertas and if you think I'm having my fingers snapped off because you wanted to prolong this sad old fuckers last few moments in this shit hole, you've got another thing coming'.

The Raider grinned. Razor was no fun. 'Just kill 'em!' he'd always say, where was the fun in that? Max liked to savour the kill, ever since he became a raider 3 years ago, ever since that the first time he watched a man crumble before the barrel when he knew his time was up, this is what he lived for, and he would not be robbed of it.

Max narrowed his gaze, staring straight into the Old Man's eyes. This was it, the part he waits for. He knew it was coming, the moment it hits him that he's coming to the end. He stood, and waited. Seconds past. Max's eyes flickered. He couldn't see it. Where was it? It doesn't usually take this long. What the hell is wrong with this guy? The Old Man met his gaze, and just sat there, not even a single shake.

'Why aren't you scared, Old Man?' Max said, agitation filling his words, the barrel of his shotgun trembling slightly.

'Son, I've lived a long, long life and seen more than you could ever see. Look around you. Death surrounds us every day. I'm used to this crap. I'm tired of it now. I think... I think I'm ready.'

The last few words floated through Max's mind. 'I'm ready?' what does that even mean. Max's face contorted with rage.

'Ready!' Max's voice was now high and uncontrolled. He pumped a round into the gun's chamber, bared his teeth and pushed the gun forward into the Old man's forehead, pushing his head back a little. 'Then it's time meet your maker, ass-hole!'.

'But!' The Old man raised his hand; one finger pointed upwards, '_He _may have something to say about it'.

The Old Man slowly pointed to Max's left, towards Razor. Max relaxed his face, and followed the Old man's finger with his eyes.

His eyes were drawn to his 'friend' Razor, who lay crumbled on the ground, a figure stood behind him, bloodied hunting knife in hand. Max had been so busy appeasing his bloodlust that he had missed the figure slitting Razor's throat. Max studied the new threat. He was a man, at least 6 foot, broad with a grizzled beard, blackened hat, balaclava around his neck and black rimmed sunglasses over his eyes.

The sun beat down on the trio, a warm breeze floated across the scene, ruffling the stranger's duster and blowing some dust in Max's eyes. He didn't blink, he dared not blink. It had been a long time since someone pointed a gun at Max and he hadn't been ready for it. In fact he couldn't remember the last time this situation had occurred. A minute or so passed, the staring contest continuing. Finally, after what seemed an age, Max spoke.

'Well, I think what we have here is what they call a Mexican stand-off'

'Really?' began the figure, 'I'd say what we have here is me having your balls in a vice grip, but I could see how some people might see it differently'. The stranger's voice was deep and calm. Max laughed. The stranger didn't.

'So what's you name friend?' Max called out to the man.

'Texas Jones, Regulator'

One word ran through Max's mind. The Regulator, scourge of people like him. But out here? This far west? It was almost unheard of. Well, almost, he'd seen stranger things in this dump.

'You've got two options' Texas began 'the easy way, or the very easy way. The easy was is you put down your weapon, turn around and run far, far away'.

'And the hard way?' replied Max.

'Simple. You die.'

A few moments passed, more wind passed across the scene, a solitary piece of tumbleweed blew between the Max and Texas. Max shook his head, stepped away from the Old Man, who looked visibly relieved and faced Texas.

'Ok, you win'. Max dropped his shotgun, but almost instantly reached for his pistol. A loud bang rolled across the wasteland. An odd feeling washed across Max. He was cold, for the first time in his life he felt cold. Max also felt slightly out of breath, then very out of breath. Then numbness spread across his body. It was at this point he realised he was looking at the sky. Max coughed and blood poured out of the side of his mouth. He was dying, he knew that now. His vision fading, he could see Texas stood above him. The Regulator crouched down, his figure blocking out the sun, allowing Max to see his killer in full. Texas took the spent round out of his revolver, reloaded and clacked the cylinder back into place. He sighed and looked at the spent and fading raider.

'You stupid bastard, I gave you your chance, but you didn't take it'.

The Regulator looked up, then back again. He could see the light going from Max's eyes. These were his last moments on this earth and no matter what he had done before, he shouldn't have to be chastised now.

'You are forgiven for you past, your now going to a place much better than this, you are not the first I've sent there and I fear you will not be the last'.

Max's eyes flickered, and then became vacant. He was gone, the 90th man to die before Texas' eyes. Texas sighed again, and then used two fingers to close Max's open eyes. Another man dies in the wasteland, Texas thought to himself. Texas stood up, re-holstered his gun and walked over to the Old Man. Texas held out his hand; the Old Man grabbed it and was helped back to his feet.

'Well, that was fun' The Old man smiled weakly and looked at Texas, who did not return the smile. Texas looked at the Old man.

'What's your name, old timer?' he asked.

'Jonah, nice to meet you' he held out his hand, Texas shook it 'Thanks for that by the way, I'm getting a bit sick of all this to be honest'.

Texas looked around, left and right, taking in the whole scene before turning back to Jonah.

'Can't imagine why'

Jonah laughed loudly, raising a hand to his forehead, his laughing subsiding before stopping all together and giving a long exhale.

'That's it, I'm done. I'm done with Caravanning, and I'm done with the wasteland. I've got enough caps, fuck it, I'm retiring!' Jonah grabbed what he could salvage from his destroyed caravan and shoved it into his backpack before hoisting it onto his back.

'So, Jonah, where will you go now?' Asked Texas.

'West, my gun totting amigo, back to the Crimsons before finding a place to settle down'.

'You mean the Crimson Caravan Company, right? Just outside New Vegas?'

'Yeah, you heading that way? 'Cos I could do with the company'.

Texas smiled 'Then my company you will have'.

As the pair began walking down the dusty road, Texas took out his hip flask.

'Hear' said Jonah, reaching into his pocket and passing Texas a Nuka-Cola 'On the house'.

'Thanks' Said Texas, popping the top off the drink. Jonah smiled and walked ahead. Texas carefully placed the drink on the ground and quickly caught up with Jonah. He wasn't going to drink something from a total stranger, the wasteland had taught him better than that.


End file.
